


Scoutmaster

by chapscher



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Eternal Scouts, Gen, M/M, One-Sided Attraction, Strexcorp, boy scout, scout angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:56:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chapscher/pseuds/chapscher
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happened to Earl Harlan the day the mute children came to Night Vale during the Eternal Scouts ceremony. Quite a bit of one-sided Cecearl and somewhat on the angsty side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scoutmaster

He was only a teenager when he first saw them. It was early morning out in the scrub lands and Earl Harlan was tying up his sleeping bag, knowing he needed to get back into town before the desert heat became overwhelming. Dusting the sand and dried grass off of his purple scout-issued shorts, Earl turned to pick up his pots and pans from the lonely dinner he made for himself last night. He had asked Cecil to join him so they could work on their Desert Survival badge together, but his friend had other plans. He was going to replace Leonard Burton as the Night Vale Community Radio host; at least, that’s what the tablets down at city hall said last week. He hadn’t seen much of Cecil since then.

Sleeping bag and pots in tow, Earl began to turn to make his long walk back to Night Vale, but stopped when he saw a small figure in the distance out on the edge of Radon Canyon. The figure couldn’t be much more than a child, a child who seemed to be all alone. Nobody’s supposed to be out here by themselves, especially someone so young. Earl adjusted the straps of his backpack, knowing that it was his duty as a scout and Night Valeian to make sure that this young citizen got home safely.

As he approached the child, Earl absently rubbed the side of his thumb against his proud Eagle Scout emblem displayed above his troop number, stars, and chevrons on his beige shirt. His scoutmaster said at Earl’s initiation to the rank that, ever since he was a Cub Scout, it was clear that he was destined to be the next scout master. 

“Being a scout isn’t about decorated ranks,” Earl said to himself, remembering saying the same thing during his speech at the last initiation. “The spirit of a scout is based in the concept of being a caring and helpful leader in the community. We are the voice of a better Night Vale and seekers of truth and solidarity.”

He smiled faintly. With this in mind, he knew that Cecil would be an excellent radio host, even if it meant that he would have to leave the scouts.

 

* * *

  

Scoutmaster Earl Harlan stood in front of his bathroom mirror, carefully adjusting his dark navy blazer and making sure that his bright red hair swept over his forehead in just the right way. It was the day of the first initiation of Eternal Scouts in Scout history. He smiled nervously at his reflection, turning slightly to admire how well his formal scout uniform fit. This was probably the only time he would have the chance to wear it.

Stepping out into his bedroom, he looked over the packed suitcase sitting on the bed and double-checked various completed forms that he stored away in the top dresser drawer. The curtains were drawn, but he knew that the Sheriff’s Secret Police would come by as soon as he left to open them again. It didn’t matter anymore. He knew he wasn’t coming back.

Earl locked his apartment door and took his suitcase down to his car. He had to check on a few things for the ceremony. But, more importantly, he needed to stop by the radio station and tell Cecil about the Scouts. With everything that was going on that day, the thought of seeing Cecil was the one thing that made his stomach turn to stone.

Several of his troop members were already waiting near the Ralphs, holding their painted banner and waiting with streamers for Earl to help them set up the thick burlap tent. He forced a small smile as he parked his car.

They didn’t know. They had no part in this.

“Franky, Barty,” Earl smiled as he got out of his car. “How are you, gentlemen?”

Barton looked up, fumbling with the box of sandcookies his mother had made for the occasion. “Nervous, Sir.”

"Well, that’s alright,” Earl said as he walked to the collapsed tent that he had used for so many scouting ceremonies before. “Sometimes nervousness is part of being a scout, but don’t let it frighten you off. All of Night Vale will remember you, preserved in the honor of this day.”

Franklin helped Earl raise the frame of the tent. “You always say things like that, Sir.”

“And I always mean it.” He glanced down at the hole that the tent was being raised over. “Are you two and the other scouts good for setting the stakes for the tent cover? I’m going to check out the floor.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Earl stopped for a moment, watching Franklin run off to get a few of the younger scouts to help him while Barton looked for a safe place to set down the cookies before gathering up the stakes and rope. His mouth went dry before he turned and stepped inside the hole. As soon as the scouts pulled the burlap tarp over him, he reached down and lightly pressed against the sagging but steady dirt wall he had placed there many years ago.

 

* * *

  

The child stood quietly at the edge of the canyon, facing the faint humming glow that mixed with the soft blues and purples of dawn. Earl approached carefully, making sure that he didn’t scare the child.

“Hi there,” Earl chirped. “Out here to enjoy the sunrise?”

The child didn’t acknowledge Earl and continued to stare into the canyon.

“It sure is beautiful,” he commented, brow furrowing slightly and not sure if the child really knew he was there. “But the City Council told us not to be alone out here. It’s really for our own safety. We don’t know what the Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency might be testing out here. And we’re still not sure about those helicopters that are painted with complex murals depicting birds of prey diving.”

The child still didn’t move. Earl rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to figure out what the child was thinking.

“I’ll walk you home. I don’t like being out here alone, either.”

As soon as Earl began to wonder if it was best if he just went back to the city, the child turned and looked blankly up into Earl’s red and black eyes. Earl flashed a friendly smile and tried to not show his uneasiness as the child continued to stare unblinkingly. He opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced as the child suddenly took his hand and began to walk along the canyon.

The child’s grip was neither strong nor weak, but just gently guiding and holding. It reminded Earl of the way Cecil held his hand when they got their Swing Dancing badge last year at the Scout Formal.

Earl was led to a narrow path that dove down the side of the canyon and then to a crack in the wall that he had to duck to walk through. The child never once paused or even looked behind, leading the scout into a large cave and down crudely carved steps that were lit by glowing eyeless bats. Even when Earl stumbled and ran into the child, no motion was made to further acknowledge Earl more than the constant steady pull.

Looking around wide-eyed, Earl fumbled with a small notebook and non-pen, wanting to take notes on the winding cavern. In all his years of studying Night Vale, he had never gone into the caves branching off of Radon Canyon. He didn’t even know that there were caves branching off of Radon Canyon. In fact, he wasn’t sure if anyone knew. In his Local History and Desert Geography badges, nothing even similar to this was ever mentioned. Earl’s head was still swimming with fantastic discovery when he and the child arrived at the bottom of the steps and beside a large lake-like aquifer. Dozens of other children stood in the dimly-lit cavern. Along the walls were rows of what looked like small apartments that were carved into the rock. A sort of jetty and docks stretched over the aquifer, the underground lake vanishing far into the haze until it was indistinguishable from the blackness.

The children silently approached him, staring up at his tall form and reaching to touch his Scout patches and the pots that hung from his sleeping bag. Looking around, Earl didn’t see a single adult among the children, more emerging from their homes and walking up to him. Every child seemed to be half male and half female and stared up at him with large and empty eyes, their faces as expressionless as that of the first child, who let go of his hand.

Quickly, Earl pulled out his notebook and began writing and sketching as much as his non-pen would let him. “Who are you?” he asked, not looking up from his notes. “Where are you from? How long have you been here? Do you have any parents? Are you under Night Vale jurisdiction? Are any of you interested in having Night Vale’s scout lottery expanding down into your community?”

It wasn’t until his racing thoughts had finally calmed down that Earl noticed that the only sound in the caves was his frantic questioning. He lowered his notebook and looked around at the children, who kept watching him

“Erm… hi.” He smiled lightly and pocketed his notebook. “Um… my name is Earl Harlan. I am from Night Vale Boy Scout Troop 773.” The children didn’t react. Unsure of what else to say, Earl struck his most patriotic expression and looked up into the stalactites and glowing bats. “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America, and to the beams. Praise the beams, praise, o ye knowing beams that guide our lives, our hearts, our souls; praise o highest to ye all-powerful beams. To which we stand one nation, indivisible, and with liberty and justice for all.”

When he looked down, he saw that one of the children was carrying a damp yellow sheet of paper. _StrexCorp Synernists Incorporated_ it read under a triangle with the Desert Bluffs emblem in the middle. _Look around you – Strex._

Earl cocked an eyebrow and dried the paper off before storing it in his notebook. He had never heard of Strexcorp before. One of the children guided him to the lakefront and he saw dozens of the same yellow pamphlet scattered along the shoreline. It was like they just washed up one day. Another child approached him holding a gold pin with the same design on it as the pamphlet. The back of the pin had a dried dark substance on it. Blood? In the low light, Earl couldn’t be sure.

“What is this?” he asked, although he knew that he wouldn’t get a response.

The children gathered around him again and walked him in a heard to a small cavern near the edge of their village. Inside was a collection of rune stones that were arranged in careful rows and lit by a bioluminescent mold. Earl looked over the stones, trying to translate them before realizing that they were in a dialect he didn’t understand.  Before he could even reach for his notebook, one of the children had already handed it to him.

Working in complete silence, Earl sat against the wall of the cave and slowly came to the conclusion that the stones were written in the rune notation of Unmodified Sumerian. He only knew conversational Modified Sumerian, but he was ultimately able to understand what it meant. The children had left him alone in the cavern, presumably going about their usual business in the caves.

Earl pulled his knees to his chest and thought, the only sound he could hear was the faint splash of gentle waves against the jettys and docks in the main cavern. Now that he knew, he couldn’t just walk out of the caves and return to life as usual as a Night Vale Scout. The stones here spoke to him as the tablets at city hall spoke to Cecil. There was a clear duty set for him now, as a scout… as something more than a scout, if that was possible. He wasn’t sure. But what he did know was that everything was different now.

He stood and walked out of the cavern. The children stopped what they were doing and watched him with silent and expressionless eyes. Approaching the one who brought him to the caves, he gently placed his hand on the side of the child’s face, his fingertips brushed against soft white hair.

“I’m not sure if you understand me,” Earl said quietly, his voice carrying over the underground lake and through empty caverns. “But I’m here for you. I… I can’t do everything I need to right now, but I’ll never forget you. I’ll come back when I’m a scout master. I’ll teach you to be scouts and will keep StrexCorp, whatever it is, from ever hurting you. I promise. This is my word as a Scout and a person. I’m here. I’ll be here for you.”

 

* * *

 

Over the years, Earl had earned badges in Unmodified Sumerian and Crypotology, but all that had done was make the words the mute children had shown him even clearer. And in sleepless nights of analysis, he kept finding more than he had ever wished to see. But the time had come, and he had finally, numbly, reached the day that would divide his life in two. Even after he had first seen the runes, he was able to go back to Night Vale and live as a scout, watching his friends grow up and die around him just as any man would desire. This was different.

As he checked over the oil drums before sealing them and having some of the Fear Scouts roll them into the tent, he wondered if there was ever a point when he could have said no to all this. He could have refused to follow the child into the caves. He could have left the scrublands without even approaching the small figure that stood on the edge of the canyon. He even could have decided to put off getting his Desert Survival badge until he could talk Cecil into coming out with him. There were so many points before and after when he could have put his foot down and removed himself from the whole strange situation. Now, however, was not the time.

Getting in his car, Earl made the long drive to the station, wanting to avoid going past City Hall. He drove past Grove Park instead. There used to be an ice cream truck that parked on the corner and sold their special veal ice cream beside the vegetarian chili vendor. He and Cecil used to spend their evenings there after Cecil became an intern at the radio station and had to resign from the scouts.  Cecil’s eyes were distant for a while back then, but all it took was for Earl to nudge him and ask “do you ever wonder about the moon?” and Cecil was back to his usual self. They would lie on their backs for hours, Cecil glaring at the moon while Earl stared off into the void, knowing that eventually he would miss the brand of existential terror it brought him.

 

* * *

  

Several months ago, not long before the rank of Eternal Scout was added to the Boy Scout hierarchy, Earl was called into City Hall for a meeting with the City Council. He was afraid that his time might have finally come for reeducation. Night Vale scouts were rarely reeducated, and Earl had managed to go a lot longer than most Night Valeians.  That’s not to say that he was completely exempt from every consequence for potentially anti-government actions. For every elective badge he received, he had to spend that number of hours in the Dark Box, just to make sure that he wouldn’t use his newfound knowledge for purposes outside of official Scout matters.

“Thank you for your punctuality, Scoutmaster Harlan,” the City Council said in unison. They stood in a circle around him in a windowless and doorless room that Earl had no memory of entering. “You are familiar with the requirements we set forth for the Eternal Scouts?”

“I am,” he answered, making sure not to make direct eye-contact with them.

“And the consequences for reaching the level of Eternal Scout are understood?”

“They are.” Scoutmaster Harlan took a slow breath. “The scouts who reach this level are to be brought here to be preserved and set in their display cases.”

“We detect a tone of disagreement with this decision, Scoutmaster Harlan.”

“A sense of impending personal loss,” Earl answered. “However, I understand how it is necessary in inspiring new generations of scouts. And that the Eternal Scouts themselves learn a valuable lesson of the permanence of memory in contrast to the impermanence of personal freedom. So, it is for the good of Night Vale as a community.”

“Your cooperation in this matter is greatly appreciated, Scoutmaster Harlan,” they said in unison. “We would hate to replace a Scoutmaster as valuable as you.”

“I’m flattered and humbled.”

“There will be a press-release put out by the Boy Scouts of Night Vale within the month that announces this change in hierarchy.”

“Understood.”

“Additionally, we expect at least two of your troop members to achieve the rank of Eternal Scout within the year.”

Earl felt his heart drop, the faces of two Eagle Scouts coming to his mind. He had trained them since they were Cub Scouts, teaching them how to make slingshots and the various techniques of fighting off librarians. They were good scouts.

“Scoutmaster Harlan?”

“Yes,” he said, nodding slowly. “Two scouts within the year. I… I’ll tell my scouts about the new rank during next Wednesday’s meeting.”

 

* * *

  

Earl stopped outside Night Vale Community Radio’s break room; standing at the doorway and not sure if he should walk in. Interns Paolo and Dylan thumbed through emails and press releases, resting their coffees and bagels on the polished tombstone of Intern Leland. Standing at the counter and slowly stirring his coffee was Cecil, who swayed absently with his phone held to his ear. He wasn’t sure how much he should tell Cecil. Up until that moment, he thought he would just let him know about the ceremony. But now that he could see Cecil standing there, he wanted to tell him everything.

He wanted Cecil to come with him. He hated himself for thinking about it, but it was something that had played on his mind for years.

The radio host turned around and met Earl’s eyes, a smile broadening before he turned off his phone and walked to Earl, coffee in hand.

“Earl,” he grinned. “Look at you. I haven’t seen you in the formal uniform before.”

“I called you earlier about the scouts,” Earl said, watching Cecil examine the pins of Earl’s decorated rank that sat in organized rows on his lapel.

“Oh yes. Would you like to do an interview?”

“I’m sorry, Cecil, but with the ceremony and everything… I don’t really have time.”

“Oh.”

Earl furrowed his brow sadly. As much as he wanted to immerse himself in Cecil’s voice, he felt an ache in his heart with Cecil’s crestfallen “oh.” There was a time when he had heard it too often and he hated that he had made Cecil say it as many times as he did.

Cecil’s expression suddenly lightened. “I have to show you something.”

Earl startled as Cecil rushed past him, grabbing Earl’s hand and quickly leading him down the hallway. He knew that he shouldn’t take it too personally; Cecil tended to take people by the hand and drag them along whenever he was excited about anything.

Cecil pushed open the door to the men’s room and waved his free hand around in a grandiose gesture. “Kittens!”

Earl looked around the bathroom at Khoshekh and five hovering kittens who were stretching and mewing softly. Cecil reached up to scratch the chin of the kitten  who was hovering around eight feet off the ground.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Cecil chirped. “How does a _he_ cat give birth? Well, how does a he cat _hover_ in an immobile spot in a radio station bathroom?

Earl pet Khoshekh, who purred in a deep rumble that seemed to shake the bathroom fixtures. “Some things just aren’t meant to be questioned,” Earl said. “ _Most_ things, actually.”

“I don’t think that Station Management will let us keep them, but I asked them anyways. Do you want one?”

“Perhaps.”

“There’s one that sort of looks like you. I already named him Scout.”

Earl glanced over as Cecil walked to a small ginger kitten hovering beside the hand dryer. Cecil scratched the kitten’s ears and Scout blinked his black and red eyes open, looking up at Earl before stretching and hitting the button that turned on the hand dryer.

 

* * *

 

“Who was it who achieved the rank?”

“Franklin Wilson and Barton Donovan.”

Earl watched as Cecil wrote that down on a small pad of paper with a non-pen. They stood in the studio, Cecil looking quite content and natural beside the desk. The tablets were right about him, as much as Earl wished that fate could have let them stay together longer than it had.

“Hole in the Vacant Lot Out Back of the Ralph’s,” Cecil muttered, still writing. “Anyone invited.” He paused and looked up at Earl. “Unspecified time?”

Earl nodded.

“I have the Mayor’s statements from earlier today. I didn’t see you at the press conference, but she extends her congratulations. Anything else?”

“Um…those who wish to view the ceremony should wear loose-fitting clothing and tell everyone they know that they will be going on a _long_ trip.”

Cecil stopped writing and pursed his lips. He watched as Earl took a deep and slow breath. “Earl?” he said softly. “Are _you_ going on a long trip?”

“Oh, just _somewhere_ , to clear my head, you know? That’s, um, what they should tell everybody. And that I – erm – _they_ don’t know when they will be back, but it won’t be for a long time, probably.”

Shaking just slightly, Earl looked up into Cecil’s eyes. As he did when he was nervous he recited the Boy Scout law in his head, but the promises and virtues jumbled together in a fog. The words hung immobile in the air like Khoshekh’s kittens, surrounding the concerned face of Cecil.

“I just really have to find myself, and I think the open road is the place to do it,” Earl continued. “Don’t look for me, Cecil” he said, taking hold of the radio host’s shoulder and maintaining an intense eye contact. “Cecil. _Don’t look for me_.”

Cecil opened his mouth to speak, but stopped when the door to the studio suddenly opened and one of the interns called him out to the hall. Hesitating, Cecil lightly touched the back of Earl’s hand before leaving him standing there alone in the studio. Earl leaned against Cecil’s desk, looking over the press releases that were scattered over it before his eyes finally settled on the soundboard. At that moment, Earl became aware of the weight of the phone in his pocket.

 

* * *

 

“Sorry about that,” Cecil said, walking back into the studio. “When the Vague, Yet Menacing, Government Agency calls us, I need to answer as soon as I can.”

“I understand.”

“You were saying something.”

“Yeah. Um, Cecil, I,” he said firmly until their eyes met again. “I should get back to Vacant Lot Out Back of the Ralph’s. The scouts are waiting there and I need to be there when the ceremony starts.”

Cecil nodded slowly. “Is there something _else_ you were going to say, Earl?”

“Like a statement?” he asked. Cecil nodded reluctantly. “Well, I’m _proud_ to be the first Scout troop to achieve this rank. I’m also _terrified_ to be the first Scout troop to achieve this rank. The two emotions are mixing inside my body and it’s confusing.” He felt his throat tighten as soon as he saw Cecil’s smile emerge again. “It’s confusing.” 

Earl’s phone vibrated quietly in his pocket. It was the call he was waiting for. Ever since he walked out of the underground city, he had thought about what it would be like saying goodbye to Cecil. Speeches and fantasies rehearsed over and over in his mind flooded his thoughts as soon as he felt the phone hum lightly. Everything he needed to say and that Cecil needed to hear rang in his ears. And there they were, alone with no time left to speak.

He shivered.

“We could have had something, Cecil. Always remember that,” Earl finally said. He didn’t remember when he took hold of the other man’s arm, his fingers clutching in a way that wanted to draw Cecil even closer. His phone vibrated again. Feeling that he should say goodbye, Earl opened his mouth to speak, but the words stopped in the middle of his tongue. He couldn’t say it. He couldn’t say anything.

Earl tore himself away from Cecil, casting his eyes down as he walked slowly out of the studio. Walking down the hall and out to his car, he remained as silent as he was numb. It wasn’t until he was within a few blocks of the Ralph’s that Earl suddenly pulled over to the side of the road and buried his face in his hands.

 

* * *

 

The Hole in the Vacant Lot Out Back of the Ralph’s was surrounded by scouts and their parents, many surrounding and congratulating the two Eternal Scouts. Taking his suitcase, Earl ducked inside the tent, which was empty except for the oil drums that he had instructed to be left there. Stepping down into the hole, Earl brushed at the sand and dust to reveal loose bricks creating a wall along the side of the hole. He pulled the bricks free and opened a small wooden door behind them, looking down into the dark eyes of one of the mute children.

“It’s bright out here,” he said. “I know a few of you came up for the press conference, but will the rest of you be alright?”

The child looked behind to the rest of the children in the tunnel before turning back to Earl and nodding.

Earl stood and backed up, watching the children file out of the hole, some gathering around the oil drums and the rest mingling in the tent. The oil drums were rolled down into the hole. It was promising to know that the children had gone so long without firearms to protect themselves from whatever else was in the caverns, but Earl wanted to make sure that they were safe. The Strexcorp flyers had littered the underground lake, occasionally flecked with blood and manmade cuts.

The children clustered in the small groups they had worked out, all looking to Earl for guidance. The scoutmaster approached a group of five children, bending down so he was eye-level with them.

“You five need to go to the radio station I told you about. In the first studio, there is a man with white hair and a purple shirt. His name is Cecil. Protect him. Make sure that the others don’t take or hurt him. I know that there is little say in who is taken and who is… well… um… but I want you to make sure that he stays here and is safe.”

The children nodded and walked out of the tent. Earl turned on the small radio he set up in the tent and texted Cecil that the ceremony was starting before turning to three other children.

“Um… there is a group of scientists in a lab next to Big Rico’s Pizza. Make sure that they aren’t taken or hurt. Um… especially this one scientist. He has…um… hair. I… um… you’ll know who I’m talking about.”

The children left Earl in the tent as he covered the hole and went out to greet the scouts who gathered around the vacant lot. The guests looked uneasily as the children streamed out of the tent and took their positions across Night Vale.

“I can’t tell you how proud I am of Franky and Barty,” Earl said to the remaining scouts and parents. Many had already walked away, probably scared off by the mute children. “They have advanced six ranks in ten months, an unprecedented progress by two of the most devoted scouts I have ever had the honor of meeting. This level of determination reminds me of…” he cleared his throat. “We’re all very proud of you young gentlemen. Now, if you please come into the tent so we may begin the official ceremony.”

Earl watched as the troop filed into the tent, a knot tying itself in his throat again as he became overwhelmed with guilt upon seeing the two Eternal Scouts. There were a few Dark Scouts who become scoutmasters when all this is over. He wished he could help his scouts explore the new ranks, but knew that it was something he would have to accept would be passed to someone else. At least, for the Night Vale troop as he knew it.

The troop talked excitedly in the tent while they shuffled into the chairs lined up before a makeshift stage. Franklin reached over to turn off the radio, but one of the mute children who stayed in the tent grabbed his wrist, stopping him. Barton got up on the stage and looked over the small crowd, smiling when his eyes met Earl’s.

“Thank you for gathering here today,” Barton said to the crowd. “I don’t really know what to say. This has been the most exciting and intense year of my life. To think, just six months ago, we all became Blood Pact Scouts and I earned my invisibility badge with Franky. Trust me, I’m tempted to put it to use right now. Heh.

“I can’t imagine earning this honor amongst any other troop, under any other scoutmaster, or beside any other scout. This experience has made me a better Night Valeian – more connected to our great community. If there’s anything about the people of Night Vale that I have learned over this past year, it’s that we are there for each other. With everything that goes on with librarians and street cleaners; the people of Night Vale and the various secret government agencies that reside in our humble town all support each other. We are all here to create an even better Night Vale.

“And as Franky and I take the rank of Eternal Scouts, we feel that, in a way, all of Night Vale becomes Eternal Scouts with us. Because that’s just how we are. That’s the kind of community we always have been.”

There was a brief moment of applause and Earl slipped out of the tent, turning on his phone and listening to Cecil’s broadcast.    

“-higher source. The Sheriff’s Secret Police advise that the children are _creepy_ and that they are _creeped out_ by them. I myself count five in this recording booth with me – exactly half of them boys, and half of them girls.”

Earl took a deep breath, knowing that it was almost time and that all of the children were waiting for it with as much anticipation as he did.

“Who knows for what purpose these children have come to us,” Cecil continued. “and to what end their actions will take us? Who knows anything, actually, for sure?”

There was a recording he had made, almost as if he knew he wouldn’t have enough time. But there was never enough time, and there never will be enough time, so he should never have been surprised. Especially with Cecil there will never be enough time.

Or maybe there was too much time. So much that he never knew what to do with it until he looked around and it had all already passed. After all, Earl did have that moment alone with his phone and the soundboard. And that, as he had learned many years ago, was all he needed.

“Let’s go, surrounded and confused, vulnerable and trembling,” said Cecil, “to the weather.”

Earl pressed a button on his phone, his recording taking over the broadcast while he heard cries from inside the burlap tent and across the city. It was a song that had repeatedly came to him ever since he first met the mute children, the words boring into his mind more and more as he thought of leaving Night Vale and the scouts. Or, more honestly, the pit in his soul he felt when he thought about leaving Cecil. He had hummed the song to himself over the years while he helped the children dig the tunnel that led to the hole in the vacant lot. For countless hours, he had heard his own voice echoing in the caverns and nothing more.

Glancing up, he saw a group of children carry Franklin and Barton out of the tent and towards City Hall. He couldn’t look the scouts in the eyes. There were many people he wished he could have told his story to. The City Council had said that they wouldn’t hurt the scouts during the preservation process. He wanted to believe that.

Does Cecil listen to the weather? Would he hear the recording that was playing now? He would say something if he did, wouldn’t he?

The children who took the Eternal Scouts will work as messengers. Only the City Council will know about the caverns under Night Vale. They’ll make sure nobody looks for them, not until Earl could find out what Strexcorp is and why their flyers are littering the banks of an underground lake.

Even after all these years, he still felt uneasy when he looked over the aquifer – the water obscured by fog and haze.

The children surrounded the tent again and began their way back down into their underground village, dragging a few reluctant citizens with them. Some of the children’s pale hands and clothes were stained with blood. Earl didn’t want to think about it. But with all that has happened in Night Vale, he was sure that nobody would be too alarmed at what had happened.

Earl followed the children into the tent, making sure they had all flied into the tunnel before following them. He kept the radio by his side as he carefully cemented the bricks into place on the wall of the hole. The light was shut out and he could hear the scouts who were left untouched calling out for him and collapsing the tent.

Stone by stone, Earl helped the mute children block up the tunnel. His mind wandered as they worked, but he suddenly stopped as he heard his name come from the radio.

“Scoutmaster Harlan was one of the ones taken,” Cecil said. “I hope that he continues to be both proud and terrified, in whichever new reality he finds himself. I think often about the last moments with him, and the things that were said.”

Earl didn’t feel well as he carefully stood, one of the children taking him by the hand and leading him down to the village.

“I think often about many things.”

The voices of the taken Night Valeians grew quiet. Earl walked along the path that was lit by the glowing eyeless bats. There was no void to stare into any longer. The darkness that reminded him of it could be touched now, all leading to cold rock. Even the hole he had been led into all those years ago was being filled up as Cecil continued to speak from Earl’s phone.

“Listeners, listeners out there, listeners out in the vacant night clinging to my voice as a simulacrum of companionship, remember: fear is consciousness plus life. Regret is an attempt to avoid what has already happened.” Earl paused, the child looking up at him curiously. “Toast is bread, held under direct heat until crisp,” Cecil continued. Earl smiled warmly and began walking again. “The present tense of regret is indecision. The fu--re tense of fear is either --omedy or traged--. And the pas-- tense of toast is --oasted.”

The signal was dying as more earth was moved between Earl and the radio tower. He stopped again, walking back towards the rock-filled path.

“Stay tuned now for more voices,” Cecil told him. “More reassuring noise in this quiet wor--.”

He couldn’t walk any farther. The children had worked quickly.

“Goodnight, --ight Vale. G--n--.”

The signal was gone. Earl stared into the blue light of his phone until it slowly dimmed into darkness. He turned as one of the mute children tugged at his sleeve before taking his hand again. All he could hear were the sound of feet and bats in the cave with the soft splash of water. The taken Night Valeians were silent now. Earl wasn’t sure how or why and he didn’t want to think about it. Not now, at any rate.

The children of the underground village swarmed around Earl, hugging him and holding up his scout uniform in offering. He smiled warmly at them as he took his clothes and was led to the apartment that was carved into the cave wall for him.

Once he was alone again, he looked down at his phone and sat down with the knowledge that the only voice he will hear from now on would be his own.

 

           

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Cecilspeaks for the Night Vale transcripts, to Nazi-Nurse/VidenteFernandez for breathing a new life into Earl and inspiring this story, to John Vanderslice for “Too Much Time”, and to Joseph Fink and Jeffrey Cranor for creating an awesome series. (And to Cecil Baldwin, who is pretty neat too).


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